It was now about 10:30 p.m. The initial flyers had been distributed. Before going home, I called the Frederick Barrack duty officer and spoke to Sergeant Hundertmark, whom I had known for many years. He was a highly respected sergeant who took good care of the troopers under his command. I also knew that whatever I asked him to do would be done immediately and without question. He was the kind of sergeant that I had been lucky enough to work for as a young trooper. He knew what he was doing, stood behind his troopers, knew how to lead, and, most important, gave a damn. He understood that what we do matters.
I told him I was about to start driving north toward Frederick carrying one hundred flyers, and asked that he have a trooper meet me around the Francis Scott Key Mall, just off I-270, so I could pass them along for further distribution. The mall was in an area known as Evergreen Point, and I lived just a few minutes’ drive from there. I instructed Hundertmark to make sure additional flyers were made and sent to all the barracks north and west. I also wanted him to make sure the Frederick County sheriff’s department got copies for all their deputies, and that copies were also distributed to the Frederick City Police Department. I still had it in the back of my mind that these guys were staying in Frederick County.
My next call was to my old friend Lieutenant Chase from Frederick City. I told him about the information and the flyer, and let him know that I was on my way north to make sure that everybody had a copy. I repeated my thought that the killers were in the Frederick area somewhere. “Make sure your cops are on their toes, Tom. I know these bastards are hiding in plain sight in our backyard.”
“I’ll make sure our guys are looking behind every building, dumpster, and rock in Frederick,” he said. “If these fuckers are up here, we’ll find them.”
“Tell the boys to take zero chances and to do whatever they need to do to get home in one piece to their families. If that means shoot first, then kill the bastards on the spot.”
There really was no need for further discussion or conversation. We knew what was needed, and we both knew the killers were in our area. It made sense to both of us old cops. I could feel it in my bones.
I pulled out of the Rockville Barrack and headed north to Frederick County. It was about a thirty-mile ride to the Francis Scott Key Mall exit where I was to meet the Frederick Barrack trooper. I was in car 662, ironically an unmarked blue Chevrolet Caprice that had a lot of wear and tear. It was fast approaching two hundred thousand miles. My Caprice wasn’t as dark a blue as the one we were looking for, but the coincidence was a little creepy. Their car represented evil and terror, mine represented justice.
I had driven about five miles up I-270 when I heard the first BOLO going out over the Rockville Barrack channel to all cars. I knew this pissed off the FBI command, but they just needed to get over it. As I came close to crossing into Frederick County, I switched the police radio to the Frederick Barrack channel and announced my presence in the county—something we were required to do. “Car 662 Frederick, I am 10–8 [in service] in the county.”
There were a few seconds of radio static, then the barrack police communications officer acknowledged my message. “Car 662, be advised that car B-12 [Frederick Barrack cars were assigned the letter B followed by a numerical identifier] will be waiting in the Sears parking lot,” she said.
“Copy that,” I responded, and replaced the radio mike.
In less than thirty seconds, the radio came alive again. This time, it was Sergeant Hundertmark speaking. “Frederick car 662, can you switch over to the secure channel and contact me immediately?”
Something was up. Something serious. Sergeant Hundertmark had been around the Maryland State Police for a long time. He had experienced plenty in his career, and he wasn’t one for theatrics or for inappropriate use of secure lines; he wouldn’t ask me to go to the secure channel to ask how Jean and the kids were doing.
I switched over to channel one. The channel wasn’t totally secure but was a frequency that had never been publicly assigned. Few people would have known to be listening to it on scanners. It was also unlikely that anybody from the press would be listening to channel one in Frederick County. After all, they were all concentrating on Montgomery County south.
“Car 662 Frederick. Go ahead on channel one.”
Hundertmark immediately responded. “Car 662, we just received a cell phone call from a citizen in the westbound rest area on I-70. The caller advised that there is a Caprice in the rest area parking lot, and then repeated the tag that we had put out over the air.”
I think my heart stopped beating for a millisecond before the adrenaline started rushing in. After so many days of not knowing, of searching, often without a trace of a clue, here was a possible sighting.
“Sergeant, how many troopers do you have at your disposal?” I asked.
“I have two right now, but I can get one or two more out of Hagerstown.”
Not exactly the cavalry, I thought. I sucked in my breath. “Send everybody you’ve got. Have them meet me at the entrance to the rest area. Notify the MSP command staff—I’ll handle notifying the JOC. And tell them to respond silent. I don’t want to risk alerting these guys.”
“Just so you know,” Hundertmark said, “I put out the first broadcast and BOLO for the Caprice less than five minutes before this call came in.”
No sleep for me tonight either. But unlike last night, this night was about to get a hell of a lot more interesting.